


Thicker Than Blood

by doylesmom



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Treason, Well - Freeform, it's a little more complicated than that but, shrugs, will probably get dark at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/pseuds/doylesmom
Summary: But Edelgard had forgotten that Hilda too was once a Deer, and her blood ran gold, through and through.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	Thicker Than Blood

**Author's Note:**

> My Hildagard brain worms made me write this

Her capture was as brutal and inglorious as it got- knocked off of her mount as she fled the burning remains of Derdriu and straight into the path of the chasing imperial soldiers. The original battle of Derdriu had long passed at that point, but revolts were more common than mayflies, and even though Claude- beautiful, stupid, cowardly man- had fled to only the Goddess knew where, she and her brother were not so quick to bow to the iron fist of the Empress. Holst had heard word of an uprising in the once peaceful trading port, and she had been hot on his heels as they ran to offer their aid.

They hadn’t counted on Hubert.

She heard his voice as her vision swam and her lungs failed her.

“Take her alive,” he commanded, his voice as icy sharp as the points of his face. “Do what you wish with the rest.”

A sharp crack to the side of her head, and she was out.

* * *

Hilda awoke as violently as she had fallen to unconsciousness. Grey stone walls, grey stone floors, iron bars that gleamed with the sheen of magical reinforcement.

The cells of Enbarr, no doubt. Where rebellions came to die.

And now it was her turn, it seemed.

Slowly she pushed herself upright, her arms slippery still with blood. Her vision swam and her stomach heaved as she moved, and only a moment later she was spilling the contents of her stomach across her hands, down the front of her ripped and bloodied shirt.

She wiped her hands clean as best as she could, hating the way they shook as she lifted them to probe the epicenter of the throbbing pain in her head. The shock of fire that coursed through her nerves as she touched it nearly made her scream aloud. She bit down on her lip as a light groan slipped through her teeth, her vision blurring once more with bone shaking pain. Her hands fell back into her lap, and she lifted one to her face as she slowly slid back down to the ground, avoiding the pile of sick as best she could. They were bloody.

Sleep claimed her body, despite the pain in her head and the ice cold weight of the shackles on her legs and the rough press of stone into her back.

* * *

The next time she woke it was to a cloth being run across her forehead. Her surroundings and situation came back to her rapidly, and Hilda did her best not to jump at the sensation, the gentle touch. She felt something warm and soft covering her, cradling her.

Had she been placed in a bed? She could still feel the iron weight of shackles on her ankles, so she couldn’t have been rescued. 

The cloth swiped across again, warm and soft and soothing, and Hilda could not help but relax under the touch. Probably washing the blood off to pretty her up for a public execution, she figured.

Her mind and body were so very weary still, but before she fell to sleep once more she cracked open an eye as best she could, catching a glimpse of white hair as she fell into the darkness.

Edelgard?

It couldn’t be.

* * *

The third time Hilda awoke in the dungeons of Enbarr, she found that she was no longer  _ in  _ the dungeons. The cream colored curtains were pulled away from the open window, swaying in the fresh air that rustled at her white bed sheets. The stench of herbs forced a sneeze from her, and she was startled to find that her head ached only minimally at the violent action.

“Good, you’re awake,” came a familiar voice from another part of the room.

“Manuela?” Hilda asked, her voice raspy with unuse. The blonde woman turned to face Hilda, her eyes dark and heavy as she took in the sight of her former student.

“Do you know your name? The year? Where you are?” Manuela asked, all business as she approached and began to examine Hilda.

“Hilda Valentine Goneril,” she answered dutifully, “the year is 1186. And I  _ was _ in Enbarr, or so I thought.”

“Coherent. Good.” Manuela sighed and returned to her seat. “You’re still in Enbarr. Just not the cells anymore. Though these rooms may not be much better, depending on what it is they want you for.”

“What do they want me for?” Hilda asked, her mind eerily calm as she took in this information. Manuela got up from her seat, pushing it back as she moved to leave the room.

“Let me put it this way, Hilda,” Manuela said, her back turned as she stopped at the doorway. “They could have easily let you bleed to death or die from infection in those dungeons. But they didn’t. Which can only mean one thing- you’re more valuable alive than dead right now. What you need to ask yourself is why.”   
  
Hilda said nothing, simply watching her former professor with an odd detachment. The once proud songstress sighed, her age and sorrows showing in the weary droop of her slim shoulders.

  
“One last thing,” Manuela said. “This room is warded by the best mages in Adrestia. Don’t try to escape.”   
  
With nothing left to say, and with so much left unsaid, Manuela left.

* * *

The next person came just before the sun set, the golden light of evening streaming through the window like water through a stream, cascading its way through the room to tumble across the crimson locks of Ferdinand Von Aegir, who offered her a comb and a simple dress of black silk and tulle. Too dark for her tastes, but it seemed that those of Adrestian origin all had the same sense of fashion.

“You have ten minutes to get ready,” he told her, placing the items at the edge of her bed, turning his back to her like the gentleman he was bred to be. 

Hilda slid out of the bed, her feet almost unsteady against the cool wood as she pondered, for a brief moment, if it would be worth it to disobey the order. But the room was warded, and she found the thought of remaining there much longer more troublesome than simply dressing and combing her hair. So she pulled off the scraps of her old dress, and slipped into the simple gown, wrinkling her nose at the way it emphasized the paleness of her arms. She ran the jeweled comb as best she could through the tangled mess of her loose hair. 

She had not been given a hair tie.

Ferdinand turned around, giving her appearance a brief once over, nodding his approval before beckoning her to the doorway as he released the seal on the door. He grasped her arm as they stepped through, her bare feet almost slipping against the slick marble floors. He guided her through long halls filled with priceless art and statues and so many doors that Hilda began to lose count, down spiraling staircases and through a grand entrance hall before stopping in front of a set of large, carved doors.

“Whatever you do,” he spoke for the first time since he had first appeared in the small infirmary room, “Don’t make eye contact.”

The doors swung open, and Hilda was led forward to meet her fate.

* * *

Bathed in blood red robes and the dying light of the sun, Edelgard seemed, for a moment, to be more than- more than human, more than an Empress, more than Edelgard.

For a moment, it took Hilda’s breath away.

She was led in front of the throne where Edelgard sat, every part of her screaming power and control as she looked disdainfully about the room, until her gaze finally settled on Hilda.

Hilda kneeled before her, bowing her head as she had been taught to do to those of a higher station than she. Her brother had scoffed at their etiquette lessons, but Hilda knew, even then, that these were skills she would need to get her way in life.

“Hilda Valentine Goneril.” Edelgard’s voice rang like the chiming of bells through the room, drawing the attention of the assorted crowd present. “Do you know why you have been brought before me?”

Hilda bit her tongue, forcing herself to keep her face turned towards the floors, speckled with gold and spots of blood.

“You have been charged, Lady Goneril,” Edelgard continued, her haughty voice pressing into the walls, the floors, the skin beneath her fingernails and behind her ears, “With treason, inciting rebellions, and the murder of imperial officials. Would you like me to continue?”

“No, Empress Edelgard,” Hilda said, her voice wavering unintentionally as she grit her teeth. So, her death was to be a public spectacle, then.

She hoped Holst could spin her into some sort of martyr. It would certainly help their cause. If she was to die, at least she would die a hero to the crushed masses of the Alliance.

“The sentence for just one of these crimes is death, Lady Goneril,” Edelgard said. “And you are charged with it threefold.”

Hilda’s eyes squeezed shut against her will, the low buzz of the whispering crowd mingling with the hum of her mind running overtime, racing as she prepared herself for her death.

At least she would die young and beautiful.

“But I have a proposition for you, Lady Goneril.”   
  
The hush that fell over the crowd, over Hilda’s mind, was a tangible thing.

“You are a… persuasive woman, as I know all too well.”   
  
A flash of memory, of one night of gnashing teeth and slick fingers and regrets in a rickety wooden bed. Persuasive indeed.

“And I am aware of what your death could bring.”   
  
Holst, proud and strong, giving speeches to a gathered crowd as she handed out loaves of bread and blankets, the people of Derdriu looking upon them like saviours sent from the Goddess herself.

“So instead, Lady Goneril, I have an offer for you.”

Claude, awkward and fumbling as they shook hands for the first time. Claude as they laid together under the stars, a stolen bottle of spirits passed between them. Claude as he offered to help her achieve her dreams if she would help him achieve his. Claude as he looked her over one last, sad time, the smile on his face as false as fool’s gold as he mounted his wyvern and flew east, never to be seen again, abandoning them all with only the promise of a madwoman to keep them safe.

“Work for me. Swear your loyalty to me, and I will spare your life, and the life of your co-conspirators and brother. Convince the lands that I am the true ruler of all of Fodlan. That I am just and true and honorable, and that they will be better for it. Do this and your crimes will be pardoned, and you shall never know hardship again.”

A thousand people, places, moments, flashed through Hilda’s mind as the offer of salvation dangled in front of her, like meat before a starving man. So Edelgard sought to use her. To control her and in turn control a continent.

Hilda knew then, what she had to do.

“I accept, Empress Edelgard,” she said, her voice strong and sure and sweet as it had ever been. “I swear my life and my allegiance to you and yours.” 

Hilda looked up from the floor.

Edelgard smirked, ever so slightly, glorious in her victory as the last of the sunlight fell beneath the city. 

“You made an intelligent choice, Hilda,” Edelgard said softly. “Smarter than you seem, smarter than those wretched Golden Deer ever gave you credit for, I imagine.”

But Edelgard had forgotten that Hilda too was once a Deer, and her blood ran gold, through and through. So Hilda smiled and met Edelgard’s wide, lavender eyes.

“It would seem so, Edelgard,” she replied. “It would seem so.”

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 isn't counting hits for unregistered users right now, so if you read and enjoyed it I'd be really happy if you left a kudos or a comment!
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/tzubakis/)


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